Rough Ol' Boy

Frank Capra is typically thought of as liberal director whose Depression and World War II era films reflected the New Deal political consensus of those years. Certainly Capra’s films strongly identified with the common person and frequently vilified big businessmen, but to assume this makes their message automatically liberal misunderstands Capra and his films. To many film critics, Capra’s films are a political muddle. According to critic Donald Willis,

Depending on one’s political point of view and on what Capra film or films or parts of Capra films one is talking about, Frank Capra is an advocate of Communism, fascism, Marxism, populism, conservatism, McCarthyism, New-Dealism, anti-Hooverism, jingoism, socialism capitalism, middle-of-the-road-ism, democracy, or individualism.[1]

There is more than a kernel of truth to Willis’ statement, but even though neither Capra himself nor his films are easily pigeonholed into the confines of a single ideology, the primary political themes in his most popular films are populist, communitarian, and libertarian. While for most people these three political impulses contradicted each other, Capra weaved them into a coherent whole. An examination of Capra’s life along with five of his most popular films shows that for Capra populist communities are a necessary bulwark to protect liberty against nefarious alliances between big business and big government elites.

Frank Capra

Capra’s films are frequently held up as the very apotheosis of New Deal cinema, so people frequently assume that Capra himself was a New Deal Democrat.  Capra was even suspected of Communist sympathies on several occasions.[2] The reality of Capra’s politics, however, was quite different.

It is true that early in the Depression, Capra read and was briefly intrigued by some of the writings of Karl Marx, but whatever influence Marxism left on him was minimal at best.[3] In 1951, Capra told the U.S. government that he voted “straight Republican since 1920.  No Red would have voted against Roosevelt.”[4] Capra did not just vote against Roosevelt but viscerally disliked the direction his policies were taking the country.  Roosevelt’s court packing scheme and third term particularly outraged Capra, so much so that he would later claim that “[Roosevelt] was getting too big for the country’s good.[5] I am passionately against dictatorship in any form.”  Comparing the beloved four-term president to a dictator put Capra well outside the main current of American political sentiment of that era.

Capra’s politics cannot be summarized purely based on his opposition to Roosevelt.  Although he played golf with Gerald Ford and Barry Goldwater in the postwar years, Capra harbored a mistrust for politicians of all stripes, as indicated in a private 1938 statement that “Every politician [is] a crook.”[6]

Capra’s mistrust of politicians was offset by his belief in individual freedom and community responsibility.  Katherine Hepburn, who played Capra’s leading lady in State of the Union, later described as politics as those of “a real American of the old days.  He believed in freedom.”[7]

Speaking about theme of his films, Capra said that “every person should help those below him,” but the statement works just as well as his political credo.[8]

You Can’t Take It with You

Perhaps the film that best exemplifies Capra’s Community of Liberty is 1938’s Oscar winning You Can’t Take It with You. The movie is based on a play by the same name written by George Kaufman, so Capra cannot be credited with any of the major plot elements in the film. However, as director, Capra still exercised a great deal of creative control over the movie. That coupled with Capra’s decision to take on the project at all should be seen as an indication that Capra approved of the overall message the film presents.

The plot revolves around Alice Sycamore and Tony Kirby, a young couple played by Jean Arthur and Jimmy Stewart. Alice works as Tony’s secretary in a large corporation owned by Tony’s father Anthony P. Kirby, who is portrayed by Capra’s recurring screen villain Edward Arnold. Near the beginning of the film, Kirby announces his plans to begin manufacturing munitions, which given the proximity to the beginning of World War II indicates that Kirby plans to profit from the carnage that is about to be unleashed. In order to build the new munitions plant, Kirby plans to buy up all the properties on a city block, and if people are not willing to sell, Kirby makes it clear that he will use his political power to acquire the property anyway. This abuse of power could be interpreted as a liberal or even socialist indictment of businessmen, but there is no reason to conclude that Capra meant to portray all businessmen like Kirby. When taking the whole film into consideration, it becomes clear that it is not businessmen in general that Capra is criticizing but businessmen who use their clout to attack the liberties of others.

The block Kirby wants to buy is occupied mostly by apartment buildings, whose owners are willing to sell, with the exception of one house, which happens to be owned by Alice’s grandfather Grandpa Martin Vanderhof played by Lionel Barrymore. Vanderhof is the true hero of the movie, and his decision not to sell earns him the praise of all the renters on the block, who have no interest in moving.

Vanderhof’s house is presented as something of an individualist paradise but also with a strong community spirit. It is where Alice lives along with a number of other family members and eccentrics who have taken up residence there over the years. After rejecting an offer from Kirby to sell the house, Vanderhof convinces Poppins, one of Kirby’s low-level employees, to come live at the house by saying “Everybody over at our place does just what he wants to.” This statement is very true with everyone in the house engaging in a different hobby. Vanderhof’s daughter and Alice’s mother Penny Sycamore writes novels, while her husband Paul Sycamore and a friend Mr. DiPinna make fireworks, and Alice’s sister Essie Carmichael is learning to dance from a Russian man named Kohlenkov. When Vanderhof inquires as to how Essie’s dancing skills are progressing, Kohlenkov tells him that Essie “stinks” at dancing, but Vanderhof does not mind that Essie is not improving as long as she is having fun. All the characters living in the house similarly support each other in there endeavors and frequently offer advice and encouragement, which shows the importance of a strong community for allowing individuals to truly flourish in Capra’s work.

Boston University film studies professor Ray Carney made a similar point in his book on Capra’s films:

To think of any in the films of the thirties (with the exception of It Happened One Night) is to remember them as living and acting within specific institutional or social spaces: Florence Fallon in the Temple of Miracles, in The Miracle Woman; Megan Davis, in Yen’s Palace, in Bitter Tea; Robert Conway in the Valley of the Blue Moon, in Lost Horizon, the Vanderhof family in their home in You Can’t Take It with You, and Jefferson Smith, in the U.S. Senate. The protagonists are always seen in something in these films, and involved with crowds of others as a result. Much as they may aspire to be on their own, they never are. They are never released into the state of insulated romantic subjectivity that is so common in Hollywood films of the thirties and forties. The paradox of Capra’s work, and the predicament with which his central characters must cope, is that although they aspire to be the most independent, individualistic characters in all of film, they are seldom able to remove themselves from the extended social contexts that are figured in Capra’s enormous sets. Like Henry James, Capra maximizes both individualism and social embeddedness.[9]

Furthermore, the communities the characters are embedded within often act as protection against malign forces from outside the community, particularly those of the state.

Such is the case with the Vanderhof family and the neighborhood they live in.  In an effort to force Vanderhof to sell his house, Kirby uses his government connections to send the IRS after Vanderhof for not paying income taxes.  When the IRS agent asks Vanderhof why he has not paid his income taxes, Vanderhof replies that he does not believe in them.  Furthermore, Vanderhof believes that most of the things taxes go towards are unnecessary: battleships are outdated; the Constitution is paid for; and interstate commerce is self-supporting unless other states “have fences” to keep goods out.  When the IRS agent becomes irritated with Vanderhof’s answers, he starts to yell at Vanderhof, but the rest of the family proceeds to make so much noise that he cannot be heard.  By banding together, the family drives the intruder from the house.

Later in the film, the Kirby family comes to the Vanderhof house for dinner (unaware that this is the house holding up the munitions factory), and the police come to investigate the house because one of Kirby’s employees alerted them to the fireworks being made in the basement.  When the police find pamphlets advertising a fireworks show with the theme of the Russian Revolution, everyone present is arrested as potential subversives, including the Kirbys.  This incident shows that it is dangerous for a person to use the state to get what he wants as the state may turn on him.  More importantly, however, it illustrates how a community can protect its members from the state because when the Vanderhof family pleads guilty to manufacturing fireworks without a license, their neighbors gladly pay the fine for them.

Although there is ample evidence from the eccentric behavior of the Vanderhof family that they are meant to represent an individualist community, Grandpa Vanderhof summarizes his political beliefs in a conversation with his daughter Penny.  Vanderhof asks Penny to “write a play about ism-mania” and gives the examples of “communism, fascism, vodooism.  Everybody’s got an ‘ism’ these days…When things go a little bad now days, you go out and get yourself an ‘ism’ and you’re in business.”  The one “ism” Vanderhof seems to approve of is “American-ism”:

Let her know something about Americans: John Paul Jones, Patrick Henry, Samuel Adams, Washington, Jefferson, Monroe, Lincoln, Grant, Lee, Edison, and Mark Twain.  When things got tough for those boys, they didn’t run around looking for “isms”.  Lincoln said “with malice towards none, with charity to all.”  Now days they say “think the way I do or I’ll bomb the daylights out of you.”

Obviously, not all of these Americans had identical political beliefs, but Vanderhof sees in all of them a tradition of freedom that was invaluable.  This piece of dialogue was written by Capra for the film, and given the frequency that the theme of Americanism repeats itself in Capra’s films, it is safe to assume it reflected his personal political beliefs.[10]

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is the most directly political of all the films discussed in this paper, and it provides the perfect example of what Vanderhof and Capra meant by Americanism.  Jefferson Smith, the film’s protagonist whose very name drips Americana and is played by Jimmy Stewart, is appointed to the United States Senate after the death of his predecessor.  Smith’s only qualification is that he leads the Boy Rangers, to whom Smith has taught a deep reverence for American traditions.  The governor of Smith’s state, which always goes unnamed to keep it representative of any state, only appoints Smith to the Senate because he and the other high ranking politicians believe Smith will be easily manipulated once in office.  Smith himself believes he is unfit for the job, but he promises only that he will not disgrace the office.  When Smith arrives in Washington, he is so overwhelmed by the grandeur of it that he goes sightseeing on a bus like a common person, which shocks his secretary.  Smith is similarly overwhelmed when he is assigned Daniel Webster’s old desk in the Senate.

The only policy goal Smith has is to establish a campout for boys across the country to get together to learn about being Americans.  Furthermore, Smith does not even want the government to pay for it but just to loan the money to the boys, who will pay it back, because “the government has enough on its plate already.”  However, Smith wants to locate this camp at the site that Senator Paine, the senior senator from Smith’s state, and political boss Jim Taylor, played by Edward Arnold, have selected to build a dam that will profit both of them handsomely.  Accordingly, Paine and Taylor manufacture evidence that Smith owns the land and planned to use the boys’ contributions to buy it from himself.

When Smith is first on his way to Washington, he discusses the importance of fighting for lost causes, like standing up for a miner who will abandon his claim, with Senator Paine.  Smith observes that when one man comes up against a powerful organization there is little he can do to stop it, which again points to the need for communities to support individuals against encroachments by powerful interests like the state and big business.  Smith’s community is the Boy Rangers, and they rally around him during the famous filibuster scene by publishing his speech in their small paper while Taylor locks Smith out of all the state’s major papers.

Although by the end of the film, Smith is thoroughly disgusted with politics, he still believes strongly in Americanism.  Just before he collapses at the end of his filibuster, Smith says,

Get up there with that lady that’s on top of this Capitol Dome, that lady that stands for liberty.  Take a look at this country through her eyes if you really want to see something.  And you won’t just see scenery; you’ll see the whole parade of what man’s carved out for himself after centuries of fighting.  Fighting for something better than just jungle law.  Fighting so he can stand on his own two feet, free and decent, like he was created no matter what his race, color, or creed…There’s no place out there for graft, or greed, or lies, or compromise with human liberties.

Capra presents completely disgust with politics, even American politics, but a celebration of what the free people of American accomplished over the years.

Meet John Doe

Meet John Doe was not a commercial success for Capra, but it remains critically acclaimed to this day, and although the screenplay was written by Capra’s leftist associate Robert Riskin, the movie still exhibits the same political themes as You Can’t Take It with You.  The film starts with the takeover of a newspaper by D.B. Norton, a powerful businessman with political ambitions played again by Edward Arnold.  Most of the newspaper’s employees are fired under the new management including reporter Ann Mitchell, played by Barbara Stanwyck.  For her last article, Mitchell writes a fake letter from a John Doe promising to commit suicide on Christmas Eve to protest the terrible conditions on the Depression and mankind in general, which Mitchell blames largely on “slimy politics”.  The letter generates a massive outpouring of support for Doe from the people of the city, and Mitchell convinces the newspaper’s editor that they should find someone willing to play along as John Doe and continue to write stories about him.  They find their John Doe in John Willoughby, a washed up minor league baseball pitcher played by Gary Cooper.

Mitchell writes speeches for Doe inspired by her mother and her deceased father’s journal.  Mitchell’s father advocated people helping their neighbors and defending their communities, and her mother still practices these virtues by spending almost all of the excess money Mitchell makes on the needs of their neighbors who are not as well off.  When Doe espouses these ideas on the radio, people begin forming John Doe Clubs across the country that encourage neighborliness and mutual aid.  Furthermore, these clubs exclude politicians; at one point, an unnamed politician worries that if the clubs continue getting people off government relief, he will be out of a job.  The John Doe Clubs are Capra’s vision of what a good community should be: they allow people to help each other and rebuff government power.

However, the clubs are being funded by Norton, who only desires to use them for his own political ends.  At the first John Doe Convention, Norton is set to use the clubs to promote a slate of candidates of his choosing.  Norton is only stopped when Doe refuses to go along with the plan, and Norton exposes him as a fraud, destroying the clubs rather than allow them to become something he cannot control.  Although Capra was a promoter of the common man and a believer in a kind of populism, Meet John Doe illustrates some of Capra’s qualms with the idea.

The people may have good inclinations and will listen to the positive ideas of Mitchell and Doe, but they can also be manipulated by powerful leaders like Norton.  Moreover, Norton is not just a man with somewhat repellant political beliefs; he is essentially a fascist.  Norton possesses a corps of uniformed men that recalls Germany’s brown shirts, has a bust of Napoleon, and speaks of the need to rule the country with an “iron hand.”  Capra approved of populism but recognized that it could easily veer into clamor for a dictator.

Arsenic and Old Lace

The 1944 Arsenic and Old Lace is another Capra film based on a play, this one written by Joseph Kesselring.  There are not nearly as many political themes in Arsenic and Old Lace as the other Capra films discussed here, but the films portrayal of the police as incompetent bunglers and its implicit comparison of Teddy Roosevelt to a lunatic make it worth discussing briefly.

The plot centers on Mortimer Brewster, played by Cary Grant, a playwright who has frequently mocked marriage but is now engaged to be married himself.  When Mortimer tell his aunts who raised him of the engagement, he finds a dead man in the window seat of the house.  Mortimer initially believes that his lunatic brother Teddy is responsible for the death, but Mortimer’s aunts tell him that they poisoned the man with arsenic because he was lonely.  For the rest of the film, Mortimer tries to keep the bodies a secret from the police and his other criminally insane brother Jonathan, who returns to his childhood home in the second act.

The police in the film are abject buffoons, suggesting that the state is incompetent.  The new officer assigned to the area is an aspiring playwright who only wants to discuss the details of his nonsensical play with Mortimer.  Near the end of the film, Jonathan has bound and gagged Mortimer, and this officer comes to the house and begins talking to Mortimer as if there is nothing amiss about the situation.  When other police officers arrive, a fight ensues between them and Jonathan.  The police all remark about how Jonathan looks familiar, but it is only the lieutenant who recognizes him as an escapee from an Indiana prison whose face has been plastered on circulars throughout the police department.  However, even the lieutenant proves to be less than observant when he is speaking to officers at the precinct who describe Jonathan’s accomplice to him.  The lieutenant repeats the description while the accomplice is standing right in front of him but still fails to make the connection.

Mortimer’s brother Teddy provides a more humorous criticism of state power.  Teddy is fully convinced that he is in fact Teddy Roosevelt, and the mere fact that his delusional behavior so closely parallels Roosevelt’s insinuates the idea that Roosevelt was himself insane.  Near the beginning of the film, the neighborhood police officers come to take some toy boats from Teddy, which he considers his navy, for local children.  Teddy gives up all of them but one—The Oregon—which he insists is bound for Australia, suggesting that Roosevelt was both selfish and childish with his power.  Teddy also believes the stairs are San Juan Hill and never walks up them but charges instead, showing Roosevelt’s obsession with his military exploits.  Teddy is also exceptionally pleased when Mortimer tells him that he cannot tell anyone about the dead man in the window seat, which Teddy believes is a Panama Canal worker killed by Yellow Fever—because it is a state secret.  Finally, when Mortimer calls a home for the insane, the doctor in charge tells Mortimer that they already have too many Teddy Roosevelts but could use a Napoleon if Teddy would agree to it.  This exchange hints that the two men are nearly identical.  The movie constantly portrays Teddy Roosevelt as vainglorious and power-mad lunatic, who should be locked into an asylum, indicating a strong anti-authoritarian impulse in the film.

It’s a Wonderful Life

Today, It’s a Wonderful Life is by far Frank Capra’s best known film and, with its extremely negative portrayal of the rich Mr. Potter, one that is often used to paint him as a populist liberal opposed to businessmen, but the film actually keeps true to Capra’s political themes.  In fact, it eloquently summarizes Capra’s conception of both the failures and hope of America and therefore his political beliefs.  The setting of Bedford Falls is nearly Capra’s ideal community whose spirit is exemplified in and supported by George Bailey.  Furthermore, Potter is not evil simply because he is a businessman but because he is a dishonest businessman that undermines the community.

Most of the movie tells the story of Bailey’s early life, which is an almost constant string of disappointments and setbacks for Bailey.  As a young man, Bailey wants nothing more than to leave Bedford Falls, go to college, and see the world.  However, after the death of his father, Bailey takes over the Building and Loan to keep it in business and struggles through the years to both make a living for himself and help the members of his community build new houses.  Bailey sacrifices his dreams for the greater good of his family and community, which in Capra’s eyes makes him a noble (but also somewhat tragic) figure.

Potter, on the other hand, sees no social mission in his work and only works to accumulate as much money as possible.  However, Potter’s greed initially elicits sympathy from Bailey’s father, who suggests that Potter is simply sick—both physically and spiritually.  Potter’s unforgivable sin in the film is taking the $8000 that Uncle Billy accidentally leaves in Potter’s newspaper on New Year’s Eve.  When Bailey comes to Potter to ask for a loan after losing the deposit, Potter decides to use the power of the state to attempt to have Bailey arrested for non-existent bank fraud.

In some sense, Potter is representative of the state.  When Bailey is shown what the world would be like if he had never been born, the town is named Pottersville, suggesting that Potter dominates it politically as well as economically.  Throughout the film, Potter attempts to monopolize any businesses he possibly can.  During the famous bank run scene, Potter tells Bailey that he has ordered the banks to close for a week—instituting a bank holiday that is reminiscent of Franklin Roosevelt.  Potter and Roosevelt are also similar in that they were both physically handicapped.  This similarity could be a mere coincidence—Capra’s villains were frequently physically afflicted somehow, as if their evil actions destroyed their bodies as well—but given Capra’s disdain for Roosevelt, it should not be dismissed out of hand.

In the end, Bailey is redeemed by the community that he has supported through the years.  Among Bailey’s accomplishments are keeping the town pharmacist from accidentally poisoning a family, loaning the barkeeper Martini the money for his house, and helping the now wealthy industrialist Sam Wainwright start his business empire, and each one of them gives money to save the Building and Loan and Bailey himself.  The members of a properly functioning community will support those who are experiencing difficult times.

Communities are still dependent on specific individuals, however.  As the angel Clarence tells Bailey, “Each man’s life touches so many other lives.  When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”  The need for the individual is seen most clearly in Pottersville.  Without Bailey’s contributions to the community, it becomes licentious, overrun by bars and pawn shops, and tyrannically ruled by Potter.  It’s a Wonderful Life again shows the need for strong individuals to create communities that serve in part to protect a robust idea of freedom.